


It's Time to End the Game

by bathroomtrap



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Bisexual Dennis Reynolds, But Really Just Sad, Canon compliant-ish, Dennis is jealous, M/M, Post season 14, Post-Canon, This Is Sad, dennis is in love with mac but he doesnt understand really, i really dont know why I wrote this, mac gets a boyfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21718516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bathroomtrap/pseuds/bathroomtrap
Summary: Mac got a boyfriend and moved out of the apartment, and Dennis is broken up about it.What's the point of playing a game with no clear endpoint?
Relationships: Mac McDonald/Dennis Reynolds
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	It's Time to End the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read, please take note of this:
> 
> I really don't know why I wrote this. I relate to Dennis a lot, and wanted to show how I headcanon him through a fic. I think season 14 really showed some of his vulnerabilities, and even though I doubt the contents of this fic would ever happen in canon, I still feel like it's something Dennis would consider.
> 
> That being said, there are some Trigger Warnings.
> 
> TW: Mentions of abuse, self-harm, and sexual assault. Alcoholism, suicidal ideations, suicide attempt.

God, he felt like shit. 

Then again, God had nothing to do with it. God didn’t make him drink on an empty stomach, even though Mac might insist that he did. 

Dennis buried his face into the couch as he thought of Mac. He pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders, feeling a chill run down his spine. It had only been two weeks since Mac stopped coming home. Mac lived with his boyfriend now— the apartment was no longer home to him.

It didn’t feel like home without Mac in it to Dennis, either.

He remembered the last time Mac moved out, purely out of anger. That was different— Dennis wanted him to go. He was too stubborn to ask him to stay. But this time was nothing like that. When Mac had told him he was leaving, it was like a punch to the stomach. 

“Why?” he had pleaded, feeling his heart race. Mac just shrugged and said it’d be better to live with the person he loved. Dennis wasn’t him.

It shouldn’t have made Dennis as broken up as it did. He had known, and ignored, Mac’s feelings for him for some time. It shouldn’t bother Dennis, as a straight man, that Mac no longer felt that way about him. But it did.

It hurt enough to make Dennis drink until he threw up. 

He had expected at least one call— from anyone in the gang— asking why he hadn’t been at work for over a week. But his voicemail box was empty, and the group chats were filled with nonsense between Frank and Charlie. No one cared, just like when he left for North Dakota. Why should they, after how badly Dennis has treated them for the past few years? What he had said to Mac had been true, “If that had been me choking, no one would have saved me.” Not even Mac.

He rolled on to his back, groaning as a wave of nausea passed over him. He felt like he was dying. He needed something to clear his head. 

Slowly sitting up, Dennis pushed himself off of the couch and stumbled towards the kitchen. He barely made it before collapsing in a heap, clipping his chin on the table as he went. Blood welled on the bottom of his jaw, leaving him with a ringing in his ears. The kitchen tile felt cold against his skin, and he pressed his face into it with a shaky breath. There was something calming about the ground— even though it made him feel vulnerable, Dennis thought of it as a good thing. Whenever he was shoved to the ground, or hit, it meant he would lose consciousness soon. It was a feeling he always welcomed. He had always preferred passing out instead of taking the beating as a kid. His mother’s boyfriends generally hit him hard enough to do so.

It didn’t feel like sleep was going to take him anytime soon, though. He felt his stomach begin to turn and his mouth fill with saliva, which was always a bad sign. Rushing to get up, Dennis ran to the sink before vomiting the contents of his stomach— which wasn’t much. He dry heaved for what felt like 30 minutes before finally slumping down against the cabinets. If he hadn’t rubbed his face, he wouldn’t have known he was crying. Tears streamed down in face in waves, leaving his cheeks itchy as they dried. The apartment was dark, but it still felt like too much. 

For some reason, he thought about Bryan. Not his son, Brian Jr, but the jumper. He had thought about Bryan for months after he got down from the roof of Paddy’s. Bryan mirrored him almost exactly, except for the part about ass-eating. He had only thrown that in as a way to make fun of Dee.

Dennis had ignored the similarities at first. He pushed them off on to the gang, but no one else sounded like Bryan… like Brian. The name didn’t help. He didn’t have to convince himself of the reasons why— they were clear enough. He just didn’t accept them at the time. But now it felt obvious.

The lack of anything except alcohol in his stomach was one of them. Mac had been the one making his protein shakes, even though those sometimes made him feel worse. He had taken a few vitamins here and there, but he hadn’t eaten a full meal since Mac left. When he did indulge his hunger, he would binge and purge. It was nothing new.

Mac used to keep his eating in check. He would sit with him and watch him eat dinner, even if he had already finished. It used to make Dennis uncomfortable, especially when he could tell that Mac did it on purpose. But eventually, it made Dennis feel good— Mac would distract him with chitchat, and soon enough his plate would be clean. It was easy. 

Having Mac around subtly complimenting his appearance always helped. It made Dennis feel like he could eat and still look healthy. He remembers reading Mac’s text in bed after getting home from the Zoo— “I tell you that your face looks smooth, even when I find a wrinkle.” Dennis would never admit it, but it made him cry. He wished Mac still cared as much as he did then. He couldn’t even think of what could have made him not care anymore.

And Mac didn’t care— Dennis convinced himself of such. If he had cared, he would’ve texted Dennis asking where he was. If he was eating. 

Dennis wasn’t eating. He didn’t see the point of it when it just made him feel sick. It was easier now that no one cared. He didn’t have to sneak away to purge, he could do it without worrying that Mac would come home any minute. Mac wasn’t coming home.

It wasn’t the only thing he had in common with Bryan. The ‘daddy issues’ was another one, but Dennis would never word it like that. Frank wasn’t around long enough to abuse him. Sure, he slapped him around whenever he got the chance nowadays, but he rarely did it when he was a kid. Not as much as the men who stayed briefly with his mother did. A woman with large amounts of money and no spouse was a score for any man— especially the cruel ones. Kids were not the kind of baggage these men wanted. Dennis hated seeing his mom be taken advantage of, so he did whatever he could to spite her boyfriends.

So, he was more than slapped around. Beaten would be an understatement. The worst part wasn’t the bruises or split lips— the worst part was that his mother encouraged it. Sure, he was her favorite, but that didn’t mean she liked him. Especially considering some of the shit he would say. 

Frank was a little easier on him, he’d give him that. But being slapped by your father, even as an adult, was heartbreaking. He didn’t even consider Frank his father anymore, but it still hurt. Frank encouraged his eating habits, encouraged all of the traits Dennis hated about himself. It didn’t help that the one thing he forced himself into was to sleep with older women. Dennis can remember feeling sick every night, crying and shaking himself to sleep. He put on a front that it was a good job, that he was proud of his work— but it terrified him. It reminded him of everything that had happened with Ms. Klinsky. He could never openly admit that what happened traumatized him, but it did. 

He couldn’t even remember the exact details. Even though he had written them down, he wrote down the words of someone who believed what happened was okay. He had repressed the real events. It still made him shake at the thought. The fact that the gang regularly made fun of him for it didn’t help, either. 

There was no denying that he was an alcoholic, like Bryan, too. That was apparent enough by his current situation.

Dennis glanced around the dark apartment, which was littered with empty beer bottles among other worthless things. The loneliness he felt was immeasurable. His god-hole had returned, but it wasn’t quite the god-hole anymore. It was his ‘Mac-hole’ now. Deep and never-ending, a hole where his heart should be. The ache in his chest was a real, sharp, pain— but overall he felt numb. Like there was TV static in his veins. 

His wrists ached. Not from cuts, or scars; Dennis could never bring himself to go through with direct and ugly actions of self-harm. They ached from the blood flowing through his veins, the tingling in his palms. If he would go through the actions of defamation upon his wrists, now would be the time. It felt tight, like his blood needed to be let out. He started to rub his thumb along the tendons in his left wrist, gradually increasing pressure as he leaned his head back. He was starting to feel sick again.

Bryan O’Brien had found a way out. He didn’t take it, sure, but that’s only because he thought the one person he cared about came back for him. Mac wasn’t coming back anytime soon. 

His thoughts were abrupted by the sudden need to vomit. Getting to his feet, he made his way to his bathroom instead of to the sink. He crouched in front of the toilet, waiting for it to happen, but the feeling passed. Instead of staying low to the ground, Dennis pulled himself up and leaned against the counter. He flipped on the light, narrowing his eyes as it flickered on.   
He was met with a pale face in the mirror. His blue eyes looked dull, almost murky in his reflection. There was dried blood running down his neck from his chin. He certainly looked as bad as he felt. 

His mind flickered over his options, and soon he grabbed the mirror and open the medicine cabinet. There were vitamins, over the counter cold sickness medicine, among other worthless, none life-threatening pills. That wasn’t what he was looking for, but then again he wasn’t thinking… just doing. 

The orange pill bottle marked ‘REYNOLDS, DENNIS’ was easy to find. It was full of circular pills, white in color and small in size. The bottle said ‘lamotrigine’ on the label. These were the pills the doctor had prescribed him for Borderline Personality Disorder. Of course, he had never taken them, even though Mac wanted him to.

He stood at the sink staring down at the bottle in his hands for what felt like centuries. He wondered how long it would take anyone to find him. Weeks? Months? Or would the stench alert the neighbors to his misfortune? 

His heart lurched in his chest as he slipped the top off of the bottle. For all he knew, these pills could be a placebo. Maybe he’d only wake up hungover in the morning. 

He hesitated as he titled the bottle, his hands shaking. Maybe he shouldn’t do it here. There wasn’t really a good place for this.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, careful not to spill the pills, Dennis made his way to the fridge. He set the pill bottle down on the table in the center of the kitchen before opening the fridge. He grabbed the first bottle of water he saw, screwing off the cap and drinking at least half of it in one sitting. Rubbing his chin, the water had moistened some of the dried blood. It flaked as he scratched, causing him to wince as he accidentally opened the wound back up.

In his haze, he had almost forgotten what he was doing. It took the sight of the bottle on the table to bring it back to mind. Right. He was killing himself.

“Don’t think. Just do.” he muttered, grabbing the orange carrier of his demise. He poured the pills out on to the table, his eyes scanning over them. How many would it take for him to die? He didn’t want to risk becoming a vegetable for the rest of his godforsaken life. He knew Dee would take him off life support if it came to that. 

Taking as many pills in his hand as possible, he put them in his mouth. He took the water bottle and attempted to swallow them down— it hurt, and he began to sputter and cough. They went down, though… and so did the next ones... and the next ones, until the bottle was empty. 

He felt too tired to walk to his own room. Mac had left his mattress and sheets. What a better last resting place. 

He stumbled into Mac’s old room, falling on to his bed. The sheets didn’t even cover the mattress, and the pillow was stiff, but it smelled of Mac. He pushed his face into the pillow, his eyelids fluttering. God, he was tired. 

Thinking of Mac made him realize he hadn’t written a note. Writing his feelings was harder than accepting them. But, it still felt wrong for Dennis to go without a goodbye.

He turned on to his back, getting his phone from his pocket. It was hard to look at the screen, but he did it. Maybe he would send one message in a group text. They probably wouldn’t look at it for weeks.

Dennis felt too week to hold his phone up for long. He scrolled through his contacts, down to M. Clicking on Mac’s name, he scrolled up. 

“I always try to put a lot of hard work into our relationship… I put in all this work for us so I can enjoy a smile on your face at the end of the day…” 

He reread the text, over and over again. What was he doing? It felt wrong. It was like something had snapped in him— Mac cared. But what if he didn’t? But what if he did? His thoughts were becoming jumbled and confusing; he couldn’t think straight. Why did he care what Mac thought?

He replayed so many memories in his head. Hugh Honey and Vic Vinegar. The rocket launcher. Their near-death experience on the cruise.

When the McPoyles threatened to kill them, how Mac grabbed his shoulders and said “I love you,” with the confidence of a thousand suns. It was clear why Mac cared then, and it was clear to Dennis that he cared just as much about Mac now. He loved him. It was the hard-truth. He loved Mac; he couldn’t live without him.

Suddenly he regretted his decision. What was he doing, leaving this earth without a proper goodbye? If Mac did love him, then surely he would come. If he didn’t, then he wouldn’t, and Dennis would die because of it. It was almost like the ultimate game— perhaps it was time to end it. Maybe the ending would be the worst outcome: death. Or maybe they would get that rom-com ending after all.

He quickly typed in a short message with the last bit of strength he had in him. Hitting send, he let his phone drop to his stomach.   
_______________________________________________________________________

The buzz of his phone was what woke Mac up. He hadn’t expected anyone to text him this late— the one person who would was next to him in bed. For some reason, perhaps instinct, he checked anyway.

He could see it was from Dennis. His heart lept. Had his plan finally worked? He knew using Dennis’ own system against him would be effective.   
But as he read the message, his heart dropped. “911. Urgent. Apartment.”

He didn’t hesitate to get out of bed. He didn’t bother getting fully dressed— he threw on a robe and slipped on his shoes before running out the door. The apartment building wasn’t far, he picked his ‘boyfriend’ specifically for that reason.

When he reached the apartment, he had to find the spare key. Had Dennis moved it? It had already been 15 minutes since Dennis sent the text. Perhaps he was able to open the door.

“Dennis?” Mac called, knocking on the door with his fist. No answer. He bit his lip nervously. Was Dennis okay?

He tried the doorhandle— Dennis hadn’t locked the door. Why didn’t he think of that first?

Entering the apartment, Mac was met with silence and darkness. He flipped on the light switch, shutting the door behind him. He looked around at all of the empty beer bottles, slowly walking further into the apartment. 

“Dennis?” he called again, this time more urgently. There was blood on the floor, and he could smell the vomit in the sink. He felt his heart race. Why wasn’t he answering him?

It was then that he noticed the empty pill bottle on the table. The empty water bottle beside it. 

He picked up the orange bottle, reading the label. This was Dennis’ prescription for Borderline. Mac knew he never wanted to take those pills. Why was the bottle empty?

It struck Mac like a truck when he realized the only option. The bottle fell from his hands, clattering to the floor. “Dennis?!” he yelled, looking around. Where could he be? His door was shut. He wasn’t on the couch. Mac rushed to the closest shut door.

Swinging open the door to his room, the light cast a beam on the mattress. He could see the outline of Dennis’ still body laying on Mac’s bed. He didn’t hesitate to move forward, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and shaking in an attempt to wake him up. 

“Dennis, Dennis wake up. Dennis! Please?” he was panicking. Dennis wasn’t responding.

He did the only thing he could think of through tears. He picked Dennis up, moving him into the living room. He laid him down on the couch before taking out his phone and actually dialing 911. 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Mac felt his heart racing. What would be the fastest way to get the paramedics here?

“My boyfriend overdosed on his meds. I think he tried to kill himself.”

The operator began telling Mac to stay calm, but how could he? Dennis was dying, and he couldn’t do anything at that moment to stop it. All he could do was cry— when he finally gave the address and apartment number to the operator, he put his phone down on the floor and kneeled beside the couch. He could tell that Dennis was breathing, but they were short and hollow breaths.

He held one of Dennis’ hands with his own as he caressed his face. Why would he do this to himself? Mac couldn’t think of any reasonable explanation. The gang loved him— he loved him. Sure, maybe they didn’t show it a bunch, but Dennis had to know that they loved him, right?

“Stay with me, den. Stay with me, okay? I love you. Please just stay with me,” he cried, shutting his eyes.

“Please, God, if you’re listening. He doesn’t deserve to go like this. Our story isn’t over— his story isn’t over. There’s a structure! You know that and it hasn’t been fulfilled so... So he can’t… he can’t…” he couldn’t finish his sentence without breaking down.

It felt like centuries before the paramedics got there. They checked Dennis’ pulse and vital signs, moved him on to a stretcher and wheeled him out. Mac stayed with him until the ambulance, where he was stopped. 

“You’re the boyfriend?” he had been asked.

Mac could only nod in response. 

They told him which hospital he was going to. They asked Mac to contact next of kin, in case he didn’t make it.

It felt like a gut punch. He wasn’t allowed to ride in the ambulance to the hospital. ‘Family only’ they had said. How was he not family?

Instead, he called Frank. He didn’t answer. He called again, and again. Maybe he had left his cell phone at Paddy’s. So instead, he tried Dee. She finally answered after the third call, squawking into the cellphone. 

“What do you want, Mac?! It’s 3 AM!”

“I need a ride,” he replied, his voice quiet.

“Call an uber!” 

“Dee, you don’t understand…” he felt like he was whispering, “Dennis is in the hospital…”

“What? Why couldn’t you just start with that, idiot?!” 

He could tell that Dee was getting worked up over the phone as she hesitated for a moment before completing her thought. Her voice was softer now, as she realized the gravity of the situation. “Mac, do you… know what happened?”

Mac stayed quiet for a long time. It felt too hard to say. He took in a deep breath before shakily replying, “He tried to kill himself.”

It was enough to get Dee to get out of bed and drive to Mac and Dennis’ apartment. When she arrived, Mac got in without a word, and Dee drove to the hospital. They didn’t speak, both too nervous to. Mac could only think about Dennis the whole way there. Why would he do something so drastic?

As they entered the hospital, Dee glanced at Mac. She tapped his arm, trying to keep things light. “I’m sure it’s not that bad, Mac. You know Dennis. It’s probably an attention thing. He’s prob-”

“I found him, Dee,” Mac muttered, cutting her off. “I don’t think it’s like that.”

She went silent from then on, until they reached the wing where Dennis was. They waited in the waiting room after being told they couldn’t go back to see him yet. It was probably the most nervous Mac had felt since coming out to his dad. Worse than that, even. Dennis might not make it. The idea of living without him… it didn’t seem possible. It didn’t seem right.

He sat for what felt like hours. He twiddled his thumbs, tapped his feet— anything to keep him busy.

“Deandra Reynolds?” Mac’s eyes shot up. A woman in a white coat stood holding a clipboard by one of the doors. Dee got to her feet, hesitating to walk over.

“Yes?” she mumbled, barely able to speak without her voice breaking.

“You can go back to see him now. He isn’t awake, but he’s stable. He should be fine, but we’re still observing him.” 

Mac got to his feet, walking over to stand beside Dee. The woman looked Mac over for a moment. 

“Family only.” She muttered, her voice wavering. Dee looked at Mac, then back at the doctor. 

“He is family. He’s my brother’s…” she placed her hand on Mac’s arm after a short pause, “...boyfriend. He’s family. Dennis would want to see him.”

The doctor seemed hesitant to allow him back, but soon she stepped to the side to let them pass. “Follow me, please.”

They followed her down the hall, finally reaching a small room. She opened the door and held it open for them; Dee let Mac enter first.

Dennis was laying in the bed, his pulse and vitals displayed on the monitors around him. As they approached, the doctor explained that they had gotten to him in time. They were lucky that Mac was quick to call. They had flushed his system with charcoal and stopped any permanent damage. He would be weak for a few days and would be on suicide watch, but other than that and some malnourishment, he was okay.

Mac sat next to the bed, holding Dennis’ hand. Eventually, the Doctor left, and Dee fell asleep in one of the chairs. Frank and Charlie would most likely arrive in the morning.

Mac couldn’t sleep. He just stared at Dennis, even as his eyelids grew heavy. He looked peaceful in the bed, even though he had gone through such a terrible event. He stroked the back of Dennis’ hand with his thumb. At least he was okay, at least he was alive. He was surrounded by people who love him. Mac knew that when Dennis woke up, he would know that Mac loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not continue this. I know it ends abruptly and is short, but it was really just an idea. I could probably write another or a few more chapters on this, but I'm not sure. So don't expect another chapter- it may or may not happen depending on how I feel about it.
> 
> Thank you for reading !


End file.
